


tripping on skies

by fauxghost



Series: Carry On Countdown (2018) [1]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: Carry On Countdown 2018, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Minor Angst, Mutual Pining, Stargazing, Sunsets, Watford (Simon Snow)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 16:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16836703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauxghost/pseuds/fauxghost
Summary: Baz wants to watch sunsets.Simon wants towatchbefriend Baz.In other words, they watch a lot of sunsets together and fall in love under hazy pink skies.





	tripping on skies

**Author's Note:**

> my first post for carry on countdown 2018!  
> prompt: sunset/sunrise
> 
> (title from youth by troye sivan)

**BAZ**

I’ve always been enchanted by sunsets. There’s something about the bright colors shifting through the clouds and slowly fading into darkness that calms me, so I take the time to watch the sun go down when I get a chance. Snow is out of the room tonight, probably messing around with Bunce, so I settle myself next to our open window and stare out at the sky. A cool breeze from outside makes me shiver, but it’s also refreshing against my skin, and I feel myself starting to relax.

This room is truly a godsend, almost as if the Crucible tried to make up for pairing me with the Chosen One by placing us in the highest turret of Mummers house. Along with living in the most spacious bedroom at Watford, we also have a grand, circular window and a cushioned seat next to it. The moat directly underneath the window isn’t the best view, but across from that is the football pitch and the Wavering Wood, and it’s not a bad place to watch sunsets.

Tonight, the sky is hazy and subdued, with pastel pink clouds slowly turning gray. Just as the sun is dipping below the horizon, Snow loudly bursts through the door. (Everything he does is loud.) I ignore him.

Even though I’m looking the other way, I can feel his eyes searing into my back. After a moment, he speaks up. “Baz… are you alright?”

I turn to him, squinting. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking embarrassed. “Uh, you’re just staring out the window… doing nothing.”

“It’s called thinking, Snow. You should try it sometime.” I quip at him with ease, and then turn back to the window, quietly adding, “Besides, I’m watching the sunset. That’s hardly nothing.”

“Oh.” Simon says, noncommittally, and I hear him walking closer. He leans out the window, getting uncomfortably close to me. “Pretty.”

I swallow thickly, looking at him. “Yeah.”

To my surprise, he sits next to me on the cushion, wrapping his arms around his knees and leaning against the wall. A few inches closer, and we would be touching. I feel his magic radiating off him in subtle waves, and I hate the way I’m drawn to it, to _him._ Simon doesn’t say anything, and he’s looking out the window instead of towards me, so I turn away and do the same thing. It’s far from the best sunset I’ve ever seen, but Simon watches dutifully as the brightest pinks in the sky start to fade.

Neither of us say anything, but the silence isn’t terribly tense or awkward. I can’t help but keep glancing over at him, wondering why he joined me.

Simon and I have been on some kind of unofficial ceasefire ever since I jumped in to help him defeat a manticore earlier this year. It was an intense battle, leaving both of us injured, and Simon refused to leave my bedside in the infirmary until I was healed. We didn’t talk about it afterwards, but we stopped fighting. I wouldn’t go so far as to call us friends, but we don’t act like sworn enemies anymore.

It’s been strange.

I’m still antagonistic towards him when we interact -- it’s a habit -- but sometimes it feels more like enjoyable banter instead of serious conflict. Simon, on his part, has stopped getting riled up so easily when I’m near, almost as if he doesn’t feel severe hatred towards me anymore. We tolerate each other; I suppose that’s the best word for it, but we definitely don’t sit together to watch the sunset. Being his enemy while being deeply in love with him drove me mad, and the thought of us acting like friends does the same.

The sun seems to go down agonizingly slowly, and then Simon blinks at the dim sky and moves away from the window without saying a word.

**SIMON**

I didn’t know that Baz liked to watch sunsets. There’s still a lot I don’t know about Baz, I suppose.

He didn’t protest when I sat next to him last night, although I caught him sneaking suspicious glances at me multiple times. Even though he seemed confused, he looked calm when he was watching the sky. (Yes, I was looking at him whenever he looked away from me -- this is a dance we’ve been doing for years.) While staring at the sunset, he looked… content. And the hazy, dim lighting with the breeze flowing through his hair is a sight that keeps creeping into my mind, like a reminder that Baz can be peaceful instead of hostile.

We haven’t been acting like enemies ever since the manticore attacked, but we’re not friends, either. Aside from giving each other occasional snide comments or the one time I asked him to help me with Elocution homework and he actually obliged, it’s like we’re just roommates now. I no longer have to worry about him plotting against me, and I’ve come to accept that the vague prophecies might not actually be about us bringing each other’s downfalls, and it’s… nice. But something still feels off. I’m still drawn to Baz, almost like we’re meant to be more than just roommates.

And now we watched the sun go down together, and I can’t get his tranquil expression out of my head.

At breakfast, Penny doesn’t fail to notice the way I keep glancing over at Baz’s table. “Everything okay, Si?”

“I just can’t figure him out.”

“I thought you two weren’t fighting anymore.”

“We’re not, but--” I trail off, trying to find the right words to express what I’m feeling. I’ve never been good with words. “Isn’t it a little weird that after everything that happened between us, we’re just… roommates now?”

“You saved each other’s lives in that battle.” She says, taking a long sip of her tea. “Besides, after going at it for years on end, both of you must be exhausted. It’s no wonder the rivalry has died out.”

“But this is Baz and me.” I insist, not even sure what I’m getting at.

Penny laughs at that. “And the world revolves around you two?”

“Doesn’t it?” I respond, and I’m only half joking. Sometimes it feels like Baz and I are two stars orbiting around each other, getting closer and closer to colliding.

“But you don’t want to be enemies.” She doesn’t phrase it like a question.

“No.”

“So, friends, then?”

I never thought Baz and I could be friends, but my stomach flutters at the idea. Maybe that _is_ what I want, or at least it’s on the right track. Although, I don’t have many close friends, and I would have no idea where to start when it comes to Baz. “How would I go about doing that?”

She gives me an amused look. “You’re really asking?”

I nod, passively shrugging.

“Maybe you should spend more time with him.” Penny says, adding, “You know, outside of staring at him during football games and stalking him through the Catacombs.”

“That was _fifth year_.” I groan, but we both giggle at the ridiculousness of it. Back to the matter at hand, I look over to Baz’s table again, noticing a stray strand of hair that hangs in his face. “What do you think he does in his freetime -- eats rats and reads the dictionary?”

“You’re the one who stalks him.”

“Fine,” I mutter, and begin listing, “Violin, studying, reading, football, _rat eating,_ more studying, and… I think I have an idea.”

  


**BAZ**

Simon practically runs to catch up with me after Astrology. I can tell that it’s him behind me due to my vampire senses (he smells like blood, scones, and an obscene amount of butter), and because no one else’s magic feels the way his does. He clumsily starts walking next to me, and when I don’t look his way, he says, “Hey, Baz!”

I keep walking, giving him a skeptical glance. “Yes?”

“Meet me on the Great Lawn tonight.”

“Why?”

“For the sunset.” Simon says, smiling in a sheepish way that makes me want to kiss him. (To be fair, everything makes me want to kiss him.)

With great effort, I maintain a neutral expression, even though this almost sounds like Simon Snow is asking me out. “Oh?”

He smiles again, which almost knocks me off balance. “The view will be better from there, right?”

“That’s… likely, yes.” I manage to choke out.

After an awkward pause, Simon says, “Cool.”

He heads the opposite direction, going to his next class, and I’m left staring after him.

───── ☼ ─────

A younger Baz would have left Simon alone on the Great Lawn, waiting until the sky turned dark, but I’m afraid I’ve become weak. Technically, I never even agreed to meet with him, but his earnest smile from earlier is haunting my memories. As pathetic as it feels to follow his instructions, I don’t want to leave him disappointed. When the sun is low the sky, casting a golden glow over Watford, I make my wake to the Great Lawn. Simon must already be there, which is a relief -- we’ll avoid the awkwardness of having to walk together.

I used to hate how quickly sunsets went by, but now I’m grateful, because spending more than thirty minutes alone with Simon would be too much. Being roommates, we spend an inevitable amount of time near each other, but this is different. This is purposefully spending time together, which isn’t something I ever thought he would want to do with me. And given the undeniable romantic implications watching a sunset together, I feel like I’ll slowly delve into madness before I can figure out why Simon wants to do this.

The Great Lawn is fairly expansive, but I spot Simon sitting on top of the highest hill, giving him a nice view over the magical fence that surrounds Watford. This lighting does him wonders, bringing out the blonde bits in his curls and making his bronze skin practically glow. I almost want to stop just to soak in the view, but Simon turns my way, giving me a little wave and an endearingly nervous grin.

I wave back and make my way over to him, trying not to look as lost as I feel. In greeting, I give him a sniff, “Snow.”

“Hi,” he says quietly, resting his chin in his hands and staring out at the sky.

It’s the makings of a perfect sunset, with puffy clouds covering the sky, slowing lighting up with different colors. Towards the horizon where the sun is almost out of sight, the clouds are a striking gold color, shifting into pinks and purples higher in the sky. Simon and I watch in silence. He’s sitting the same way he was last night, hugging his knees, and my legs are stretched out in front of me on the grass. I keep sneaking glances at him, unable to get enough of the way the vibrant clouds make his eyes look even more blue than usual.

As the sky starts to grow dim, I risk a look over at him again to find that he’s already staring at me. Instead of awkwardly looking away as per the usual routine, Simon lets out a breathy laugh, and then asks, “So, what makes a good sunset?”

“I don’t know -- isn’t this one good?”

“I thought so.” He shrugs. “You’re the expert.”

“It all depends on the clouds,” I tell him, even though I must sound incredibly stupid. After all, who pays this much attention to sunsets? “The clouds have to be big enough, like tonight, because that’s where you get most of the color. But they can’t be storm clouds, or else the sunset will just be gray. And sometimes the best colors come out right after the sun is out of sight.”

Simon listens intently, as if what I’m saying actually matters to him. He glances back to the sky and hums, still wearing a small smile. The clouds are already losing their color now that the sun has gone down, and the sky is slowly fading into a darker blue. “They go by so fast.”

He actually sounds a little disappointed, so I elbow him and point towards the sky. “And then the stars come out.”

It’s still a little light outside, but the brightest stars have appeared overhead. Simon follows my gesture, taking in the sight, and then turns to beam at me. “I’ve always been more of a stars kind of guy, myself.”

“Is that so?” I raise an eyebrow. I can’t believe we’re discussing what time of day we prefer, but I feel warm all over from the way he’s looking at me. “I would’ve pegged you for a daylight person.”

“How come?”

 _It’s the way you light up a room,_ I think, _figuratively, with your laughter, and literally, with your magic. Sometimes you seem brighter than the sun._ Out loud, all I say is, “You give off that kind of energy.”

“Energy?” Simon snorts at that. “Well _you_ seem more like a full-moon-at-midnight kind of person.”

“I guess we’re full of surprises.”

  


**SIMON**

It becomes some kind of unspoken tradition.

Every day when the sun starts to go down, Baz and I meet on the Great Lawn and watch the sunset until the sky fades into darkness. We don’t really talk much -- Baz isn’t normally one to start a conversation with me, and I usually don’t know what to say. But the silence doesn’t feel uncomfortable anymore, and we even walk back to our room together afterwards. I don’t think this is what Penny imagined when she suggested I spend time with him, and I know other students are giving us weird looks from across the Great Lawn, but watching the sunset with Baz has become something I look forward to every day.

It doesn’t get boring. That’s the surprising part. Every day, the sunset looks different, and every day, Baz watches it like he can’t get enough. Meanwhile, I watch _him_ like I can’t get enough. I try not to think about the way the colors reflect in Baz’s gray eyes, or how nice he looks with the wind in his hair… and then I can’t _stop_ thinking about it. So, that’s a development. (Or is it? These aren’t exactly new thoughts, I’m starting to realize.)

What _is_ new is the way he looks at me now. There’s always been so much buried underneath his gaze, after years of us being pitted against each other. We were practically assigned enemies at birth, and he used to look at me with so much hatred in his eyes, and a hint of pain I never really understood. Now he looks at me like he’s trying to figure out, with searching glances and furrowed eyebrows. His glares aren’t harsh anymore -- they’re almost playful. And sometimes, when he isn’t paying attention, he’ll flash me a smile, or grin at me when he thinks I’m not looking.

The smiles are as fleeting as the sunsets, and just as breathtaking.

───── ☼ ─────

On the seventh day, Baz shows up with a plate of sour cherry scones, a perk of his relation to Cook Pritchard. I know he brought them for me, because he hates eating in front of other people, so I can’t help but smile when he pushes the plate over. “Crowley, that smells good.”

Baz stares at me, but I can tell he’s holding back a smirk. “A thank you would be nice.”

I softly nudge his shoulder in response, and it’s strange, how natural it feels. “Thanks, Baz.”

The next day, I bring my stash of aero bars to share.

  


**BAZ**

This has been going on for two weeks now.

By some miracle, Simon hasn’t grown tired of it -- or me. Every day he’s there, sitting next to me on the grass and staring out at the sky like with a smile on his freckled face. And I try to chalk it up to my overly hopeful imagination, but it seems like Simon has been slowly moving closer to me every day, and I haven’t failed to notice the way he’s constantly sneaking glances at me.

I don’t know if we can be considered friends now, but we’re far from what we used to be. Like the fading skies, everything has slowly started to shift. What used to be tense silence and glares from across the room has turned into and warm smiles and knowing looks at the sky as the sun starts to travel down towards the horizon. Even outside of the time we set aside to watch sunsets, Simon and I find excuses to be near each other now -- from sitting next to each other in class to spending more time in our room instead of avoiding it.

I would be lying if I said it wasn’t driving me insane, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted it to stop.

───── ☼ ─────

On the fourteenth day, it rains.

I’m sitting at my desk reading, while Simon is still in the dining hall. The clouds have been dark and heavy all day, ready to open up and drench Watford in cool rain. Naturally, I assume we won’t be watching the sunset today, but Simon lumbers into the room and seems to have other ideas. “It’s almost time. Are you coming?”

I glance at the window and then look back to him with a raised brow. “It’s going to rain.”

Simon shrugs.

“We’ll be soaked.” I cross my arms. “Besides, the sky is gray. There won’t be anything to see.”

“But it’s tradition.” He says, sounding so genuinely upset that I feel the urge to push back the clouds myself until the skies are clear for him.

On the outside, I force myself to look amused. “Is that what it is?”

“ _Yes,_ ” He replies, and he’s laughing. “That’s what it is.”

Coming closer, he tugs at the sleeve of my jumper until I’m standing. I could easily resist if I wanted to, but this is Simon, looking at me with a mischievous grin and messy hair hanging over his forehead. (I could never resist.) “Fine. If I freeze to death, I’m blaming you.”

“If you freeze to death,” Simon retorts, “You won’t be around to blame me for anything.”

That gets a laugh out of me, and I turn around to slip on my shoes before I do something stupid, like push his hair out of his face and kiss him.

So that’s how we end up rushing to the Great Lawn, even though the sky is gray and the clouds are ready to burst. Everyone else is inside, so we have the grounds of Watford all to ourselves. The air is filled with tension, and I can’t tell if it’s from the oncoming storm or because of the way Simon’s hand brushes against mine while we’re walking.

I was right about the sunset. It’s perfectly dismal, given that we can’t even see the sun, and the clouds remain a bleak, gray color. The only way we know that time is passing at all is because it’s starting to get darker outside. I was right about the cold, too. Simon seems fine because his magic is always lighting a fire inside of him, but I’m starting to shiver. He doesn’t fail to notice, and with a surprisingly concerned voice, he asks, “Cold?”

“I told you.” I grumble.

“Do you want me to--” Simon is cut off by a deep rumble from the sky, and then it happens.

I feel a raindrop hit my face, and then my arms, and then rain is pouring from the sky like the entire atmosphere is made out of water. “I _told_ you!” I repeat, jumping to my feet and trying, but miserably failing, to shield my head with my hands. My hair is definitely going to be ruined, and now I’m even _more_ frozen.

Simon is laughing too hard to respond. He holds his hand out, as if asking me to help him up, and I roll my eyes but oblige. A bright flash of lightning strikes through the air, making us both jump, and then we’re running back to Mummers house, laughing the whole way.

We stumble back through our doorway, dripping wet and faces sore from smiling. Simon takes one look at me and his eyes widen. “Aleister Crowley, Baz, you’re shaking!”

“I’m f-fine,” I say, and then I’m definitely _not_ fine because Simon puts his arms around my shoulders and wraps me up in a tight hug. Somehow he’s warm even though his clothes are soaked, and I hesitantly lean into the embrace. He’s never touched me like this before, and I feel my heart pounding even harder than the rain against our window. After a few moments, I let myself relax into him.

As soon as I stop shivering, _Simon_ starts to shake, and I realize it’s because he’s laughing again. He’s still holding me, and his laugh is a magical sound, so I decide to conveniently ignore the fact that warming spells exist.

  


**SIMON**

On the next day, the sky is perfectly clear. The grass on the Great Lawn is slightly wet, but I don’t mind because everything smells fresh and Baz is sitting next to me. There are no clouds in sight, but the sunset is still pretty, with a thin line of yellowish orange glowing against the horizon.

After the rainstorm fiasco (and the hug that I can’t quite get off my mind), Baz and I had changed into dry clothes. He spent at least ten minutes in the bathroom just fixing his hair. I wanted to tell him that his hair actually looked nice when it was all loose and wavy, but my voice died in my throat before I got the chance. Once we were warm again, we studied for a while (or Baz, did while I tried not watch him), and then went to bed.

Now we’re sitting in front of another gorgeous sunset, but once again, I just can’t seem to look away from him. There’s a lot weighing on my mind, from how soft Baz’s lips look (not a new thought, but still alarming) to way he’s started giving me easy smiles when we see each other, like he looks forward to spending time with me. Even a year ago, I never would have believe it would be possible for Baz and me to be friends, and I still feel like there’s a lot of things to clear up between us.

I’m not the best at talking -- Baz has told me this plenty of times -- but I want to try, anyway. I break the silence, nervously saying, “Hey, Baz?”

His gaze is still focused on the sky. “Hm?”

The words come out before I have a chance to overthink them. “Do you regret the past? I mean, the way we used to treat each other?”

He looks at me now, surprised. After struggling to find an answer he says, “Do you?”

I nod, not knowing how to explain.

“I do too.” Baz says quietly, frowning at the grass. “I think I’m the one who started it -- the day we met.”

“We were just kids.” I tell him, and I can feel a multitude of different emotions swell inside of me. Anger, sadness, misplaced nostalgia for something we never really had. “Everyone told us we were supposed to hate each other, so that’s what we did.”

“That doesn’t excuse the way I’ve treated you.” He mutters.

“Hey, it’s not like I was good to you, either.“ I insist. My hand brushes against his for a second, but then I nervously pull it away, continuing, “I’m not mad anymore. After we fought the manticore together, I don’t know… I just wanted to stop fighting _you._ ”

Baz swallows, glancing at my hand and then blinking away. “I never really understood what changed back then. You felt like you owed me after I helped you with the attack?”

“No, Baz, I--” My mind flashes back to the attack, to seeing the manticore land in front of Baz and claw him across the chest, leaving a gaping wound. Watching him get hurt was all my magic needed to well up inside of me and then explode, taking out the monster and a chunk of the fountain in the Courtyard all at once. Baz was rushed to the infirmary, and I could barely stand, but all I could think about was making sure he would be okay. “There was a moment, during the battle, when you got hurt, and I thought you were going to die. And all at once, I realized we had wasted so much time fighting and… I thought you would die thinking I hated you.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and then he says, “I thought you did hate me.”

“Not anymore.” I speak softly. “I don’t know if I ever really did.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Baz asks, adding, “After the battle.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “I thought _you_ hated _me._ ”

When he looks at me, there’s sadness in his eyes. “I did, but… I didn’t. I don’t know. I guess I was afraid of what would happen if I _didn’t_ hate you.”

“What would happen?” I echo, confused. “What do you mean?”

Instead of responding, Baz hesitantly reaches over and takes my hand. His hand is cold in mine, but it feels comfortable, and my magic excitedly swirls around where our palms meet. I give him a sincere smile, squeezing his hand, and he looks overwhelmed, but he squeezes back. We don’t say anything more, watching the final strokes of color disappear from the sky and fade into a dark blue night. After a few minutes of silence, Baz sighs and rests his head on my shoulder, and I feel like I’m finally starting to understand.

**BAZ**

I hadn’t been expecting Simon to bring up the things he did last night, but I tried to be honest with him. If he doesn’t know I’m in love with him by now, he’s well on his way to figuring it out. Strangely enough, for the first time in my life, I don’t feel completely hopeless. Every ounce of logic in my brain tells me that I don’t have a chance, but the way Simon didn’t let go of my hand until we go back to our room that night tells me otherwise.

During Astrology, our professor mentions that a meteor shower is happening tonight -- an astrological sign of inspiration and resolutions. I meet eyes with Simon from across the room, and he’s enthusiastically wiggling his eyebrows at me, as if to say, _Please?_

I roll my eyes in response, as if to say, _You’re ridiculous._

He pouts, giving me a frown that’s much too adorable for his own good, as if to say _But Baaaaaaz._

Holding back a smile, I nod at him, as if to say _Fine,_ because I’m weak.

───── ☼ ─────

We set up before sunset.

Simon brings snacks and as many blankets as he can carry. I show up with a textbook, which makes him groan, but the meteor shower won’t reach its peak until after midnight, and I’m not going to let my grades slip -- even for Simon Snow. He lays out the blankets while I watch with a raised brow, because it looks like he’s making one giant bed rather than two seperate spots for the both of us. (I’m not going to protest.)

It ends up being a comfortable set up, and we both laugh about how we should have done this in the first place instead of sitting on the hard ground. He points out the extra blankets he brought for me to bundle up in, muttering, “Because you’re always cold.”

“You know me so well.” I say with a mocking tone, but my heart warms at how thoughtful he is.

Simon looks out to the horizon, his eyes lighting up at the sight. “This is gonna be a good one.”

There are wavy clouds covering the sky with bits of bright blue peeking through. As the sun starts to go down, the clouds shift into hues of vibrant yellow, pink, and purple, casting warm light over everything in sight. From every angle, the sunset looks magnificent. I watch in awe as the colors become brighter and the clouds move across the sky, changing into different patterns. Even when the sun falls below the horizon and the colors start to fade, it remains beautiful, brilliant colors turning into muted pastels.

When I glance over at Simon to see if he’s enjoying it, I find that he’s already looking at me intently, wearing a soft smile. He doesn’t bother to pretend he wasn’t staring at me, and I smirk at him, saying, “You’re supposed to watch the sunset, Snow, not me.”

“I can’t help it.” He whispers, and then he’s leaning in until his face is a only few inches away from mine.

Another witty remark dies in my throat, because his gaze flickers down to my lips, and we’re achingly close. My eyes search his, as if looking for some kind of confirmation that this is actually happening, and then Simon grins and pulls me in. We kiss like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and I can taste the colors of the sky on his lips, as if we’re both made out of sun rays and iridescent hues.

By the time Simon pulls back, the sky is dark. He’s flushed, wearing a giddy smile that I want to wipe off his face with another kiss. He glances around and then looks at me apologetically. “We missed the sunset.”

“I’m not complaining.” I murmur against his lips.

  


**SIMON**

We stay up through most of the night, talking and laughing and kissing, waiting for the shooting stars. Baz’s textbook is long forgotten, and his hand resting in mine. We’re cuddling under a few layers of blankets, because Baz is cold (of course), and because I want to be as close to him as possible. I feel so content that I almost wish we could stay like this forever, holding each other underneath a starry sky.

The clouds from earlier cleared just in time for the meteor shower, giving us the perfect view. Every few seconds, quick streaks of light dash across the sky and then disappear into the darkness. Baz squeezes my hand every time he spots one, and I’m spending so much time grinning at him that I miss half of them.

We whisper quiet wishes into the air, giggle against each other’s mouths, and eventually, we fall asleep with our arms wrapped around each other.

The next morning, the sunrise is glorious.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading! please feel free to leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed it!
> 
> my twitter: @waywardbaz


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